


gimme gimme gimme

by Evedawalrus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: ABBA, Dancing, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Singing, UPDATE: now with Smooching, diggin the dancing duly appointed enforcer of the tyrest accord, i love that that's a tag, i would have written in smooching but it was 1 AM and i was Tired, minimus is so talented gosh, oh and, see that girl, singing and dancing, watch that scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evedawalrus/pseuds/Evedawalrus
Summary: "Mamma mia, here we go againMy my, how can I resist you?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if i'm gonna get pulled back into ABBA hell then i'm at least gonna use it for something gay

Ultra Magnus, by some strange occurrence, was bored. 

Most bots would deny such a thing could ever happen, yet here he was. He had written his daily report, which mainly recounted how Anode had teamed up with Brainstorm in one of their juvenile “prank wars” against Lug and Perceptor. How Perceptor agreed to be a part of it he had no idea, but the scientist was nothing if not single-minded. This, of course, had only led to untold chaos for every bot aboard the ship. 

By the end Magnus had had to fill out no less than forty-three reports: twenty-five for all the regulations broken by both parties; fifteen for the various kinds of destruction wrought on the ship; and three concerning how Brainstorm had gotten exactly three hundred capybaras and how they were going to get them all out of the vents. 

Even after all of that, somehow Magnus found himself without any more work to do. Rodimus might have suggested he go do something “““fun”””, but it was still his shift, he _had_ to find something to work on. But after an hour of searching through files and even comming Ratchet to ask if Whirl had injured anyone that night, he still was completely and utterly bored. Magnus sighed heavily, resting his forehead on the empty desk.

But... Perhaps there was _something_ he could do. 

Ultra Magnus sat back in his chair, checking his internal chronometer. It was a late hour, and a majority of the command staff was recharging. Even Rodimus had been coaxed into recharge by a soft look from Thunderclash. Tapping the desk, his gaze became unfocused as if considering something.

After a moment, Magnus’s optics dimmed, his arms going rigid at his sides. Then, out of his chest, Minimus Ambus emerged, stepping from his larger body onto the desk. With a bit of hesitation, he turned a stereo hidden in a desk drawer on. An upbeat guitar began to strum, and his foot started tapping. There was no one around to hear, he internally reasoned with himself. Just a few songs wouldn’t hurt… 

_“Honey honey, how you thrill me…”_

 

Megatron hated to admit it, but if there was one thing he had liked about the raging prank war between Anode, Brainstorm, and their partners, it had been the capybaras. 

Sure, he still harbored some hatred for Earth and all of its inhabitants, but the furry rodents were oddly… endearing. That was why, when a flood of capybaras had quite literally fallen on him from the ceiling as he was about to recharge, he wasn’t as angry as he should have been. Bewildered? Yes. Resigned? Definitely. But not angry. He had simply gone to hand them off to Perceptor, who had taken them with a resigned look of his own and shouted something at Brainstorm, whose eyes were shining with mirth. Then, he went back to his habsuite to type up a short report for Ultra Magnus. 

Normally he wouldn’t have done so for such a small incident, but he knew how Magnus liked to have reports filed for these kinds of things. That, and maybe part of him wanted to see the mech. They had both been rather busy all day, and as much as Megatron loved the wild antics of the ship’s crew — he rolled his optics to himself — the enforcer’s steady presence always seemed to calm him down.

But as Megatron approached Magnus’s office, something made him pause. Behind the closed door, he could swear he heard- music? 

Something in his mind clicked, and the former warlord stifled a groan. He had been so sure Rodimus was in recharge!

Still, he wouldn’t put it past the ‘co-captain’ to have decided to hold a “3 AM Dance Party in Magnus’s Office” or something equally ridiculous. Preparing to scold Rodimus, or at the very least rescue Magnus from whatever was going on, Megatron stepped up to the door. Oh yes, that was definitely music. 

The door slid open silently — of course, Magnus hated noisy doors — revealing-

Megatron blinked. 

The whole day had led him to believe that nothing could surprise him anymore. 

Clearly, as he watched Minimus Ambus singing to what could only be described as disco music, he had been wrong. 

Minimus wasn’t just singing though, oh no. He was also _dancing._

On the desk. 

The pistachio-green mech was gyrating — gyrating! — to a pulsing beat that seemed to send shivers up Megatron’s backstrut, his deeper voice contrasting with the music yet at the same fitting oddly well. He stood there watching the performance, utterly dumbfounded. Minimus liked earth music? Minimus could dance? 

_“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight, won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away…”_

…Minimus had such a beautiful voice?

Megatron’s thought process came to a screeching halt as the thought appeared in his processor. His cheeks felt hot quite suddenly, and his spark gave an odd twist in its casing. Oblivious to this minor breakdown, Minimus continued the chorus with a spin across the desk, hips bobbing from side to side. His optics wide, Megatron fought back the blush rising on his faceplates.

He also suddenly realized that his hips, too, were swaying ever-so-slightly to the beat. And that there was a small smile on his face. And that he had begun to hum along.

Well. The song _was_ quite catchy. 

 

For the first time in a while, Minimus felt without a care. Every nervous habit, every compulsion and suspicion was drowned by the reverberating synth. A small part of his mind objected; what if someone saw him, dancing like- like- _this?_ Other bots could dance and do it so well they wouldn’t have to care who was watching, but he was not other bots. ...But no one was watching, right? 

The thought assuaged his fears as the second verse began and he moved with renewed energy, performing a spin he couldn’t possibly have accomplished in the Magnus armor.

It took about thirty seconds for Minimus to realize there was another, deeper voice singing alongside him. The thought occurring to him in the middle of a particularly ostentatious slide, he opened his optics to see Megatron — who was _watching him with a smile on his faceplates oh primus_ — and with an undignified squawk, the minibot stumbled, tripped, and fell off the desk.

...Right into Megatron’s arms. 

The grey mech had been there within a millisecond, catching him before he could hit the floor. Minimus stiffened, highly conscious of where Megatron’s hands were touching the metal of his frame, strong and dependable yet so gentle-

Minimus wasn’t sure whether he would have preferred the floor. His processor stuttering for a moment, Minimus quickly began to regret everything as his faceplates grew heated. Megatron stared down at the minibot he held in a bridal carry, concern in his expression. Minimus was holding his servos over his face, frame slightly trembling. Was he hurt? Had Megatron hit him in the process of catching him? Worry grew in his spark at a surprisingly alarming rate.

“Minimus, are you okay?”

Slowly, Minimus lowered his servos to reveal a roaring blush scoring its way across his green cheeks. His optics didn’t meet Megatron’s, instead focusing intently on the red autobot insignia etched on the chest that he was pressed up against— _ohhh primus why had he turned the music on_ — “I- aghk- I am f-functioning, yes. Thank you.”

Megatron’s expression of concern changed to that of confusion. If not pain, then why was Minimus acting so oddly-

The mech’s mouth set into a flat line as something clicked in his processor. 

Oh....He was an idiot.

Resetting his vocal processor, Megatron set Minimus back on his pedes. Then, without comment, he went around the desk to the stereo still playing music to stop it. Minimus’s optic ridges rose as the same song he had previously been dancing to started over. They somehow rose even higher when Megatron offered him a servo. 

“...What… I don’t...” 

Megatron seemed to briefly contemplate something before he took a deep vent and said, “I… interrupted your dancing. I wish to make it up to you,” a faint blush appeared on faceplates, “that is, if you wish to.”

For a moment, Minimus stood there, stunned. 

Then, slowly, tentatively, he took Megatron’s servo. Soft smiles grew on both of their faceplates. As they began to sway together, Minimus spoke in a low voice:

“I suppose it… it _is_ after midnight.”


	2. don't go wasting your emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gimme gimme gimme, but this time there's smooching >:3c
> 
> or, an alternate ending with a bit less dancing >;3c

He wasn’t sure what made him do it. 

Perhaps it had been the picture of Megatron sullenly holding a crowd of capybaras that Brainstorm had sent him earlier, with a note that said, “he was oddly reluctant to actually let go of them >:3c .“ 

Perhaps it had been the call Minimus had accidentally eavesdropped on between Megatron and Optimus Prime a few days ago. Minimus had been there for their weekly two-person poetry club when he had heard Prime’s rumbling tones. The two sounded… comfortable. Minimus tried to ignore the empty feeling in his chest as he hurried away from the habsuite; suddenly he wasn’t in the mood for poetry anymore. Perhaps it was fear. Or the desperate, selfish desire boiling in his chest to just have one thing, all for himself — just this once. 

Perhaps it was the way Megatron held him. The suddenness of his action in saving Minimus from his fall, the smile on his face as he had watched him dance and the gentle concern for him now. 

On an impulse, Minimus leaned up and pressed his lips insistently to Megatron’s. It was nothing special, a quick peck at most, but it left the echo of a shiver running down his backstrut. That shiver turned sour, however, once he leaned back and looked at the object of his affection.

The expression on Megatron’s face would look more at home on that of a drone. His optics were wide and shining but unfocused, his mouth open ever-so-slightly. For a few terrifying seconds, he was still. Minimus resisted the urge to retreat from the room as fast as he could.

The black hand on his back, which had relaxed previously, tightened its grip. Then, it pushed. 

Minimus suddenly found his chest pressed up against Megatron’s, so hard and sudden part of him idly wondered if the grey mech’s autobot badge could leave a red mark on him. But this was no time for idle thoughts. 

Not when Megatron was kissing him. 

Megatron, one of the most feared or respected mechs in the universe, former revolutionary turned tyrant, leader of the Decepticons, towering grey frame and growling engine, soft lips and broad nose that rubbed against his and made it feel like a prayer, a murderer and a liar and-... and...

Oh, but the way Megatron hummed against his mouth could not be a lie, not when neither of them could say a word.

It could never be a lie, the way Megatron looked into his optics with an expression so open and desperate and _wanting_ and they were kissing again, again, with soft smiles and hesitant laughs grown bold by the warmth of each other’s frames, long into the night. 

And the music played on.


End file.
